The Battle of Wills
by GloriaNewt
Summary: Davina Bat returns to Cackles Academy 2 months into term after an unfortunate incident with Mongolian revenue and customs to find that she has been replaced by Lavinia Crotchet and is understandably outraged! But who will stay, and who will go?...
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **This little idea features Davina Bat returning to Cackles 2 months into term after an unfortunate incident with Mongolian revenue and customs to find that she has been replaced by Lavinia Crotchet and is understandably outraged! Amelia decides to assess both to see who stays and who goes, but neither witch is going to play fair...

I must just say that any reference to/knowledge of tarot cards in this fic is gleaned from Wikipedia, so my interpretations may not be fully accurate!

**Reviews always appreciated!**

It was a sunny morning and light was pouring into the dusty interior of the staff room at Cackles Academy. Lavinia Crotchet smiled to herself as she haphazardly shuffled her tarot cards, ready to make her predictions for the forthcoming day. She always did this every morning, a form of ritual that she had developed since arriving at the Academy two months ago, a little way of indulging her idiosyncrasies that was always mocked by her traditionalist colleagues, but it gave her a small feeling of satisfaction if by chance any of her wild predictions came true. She pointed her index finger at the heap of cards causing them to fan out into a neat semi-circle with a faint rustle and paused with her slim digit hovering over the deck, pondering as to which card she should draw. She settled upon the card to the furthest left and turned it over; wondering what would be forecast for the day ahead.

_The Wheel of Fortune_.

"A turning point with sudden changes and surprises. Plenty of new developments" she muttered quietly to herself as she pondered over the hidden meaning of the picture card.

"There are no such things as sudden surprises around here, Lavinia!" Constance Hardbroom's ringing tones echoed around the room before she appeared from thin air, as was her favoured method of arrival, her arms folded tightly across her bony chest, establishing her disapproval before she could even be addressed.

"After all, Mildred Hubble and her friends do attend school here!" she added under her breath, more for her own benefit than Lavinia's as she swept towards the tea urn that was burbling happily, little jets of steam puffing from between the joins in the metal, in desperate need of her restorative cup of morning tea, one of the few essential luxuries that she permitted herself. "Hardly an astonishing prediction!" she thought to herself- those girls had a talent for causing chaos, and uproar was to be expected at all times within a ten mile radius of them.

Lavinia continued to pour over the cards, ready to make her next choice.

"I don't know what you see in those ridiculous things!" sighed Constance in exasperation, "You're the only witch I know who uses those outdated, woolly methods of prediction- the only method that would be less accurate than tarot cards would be blind guesswork!" she harrumphed, rolling her hazel eyes at the display of illogical trust that her superstitious colleague placed in her "morning predictions".

Lavinia raised an eyebrow and made to say something in her defence but stopped herself in time, biting back the flow of words as she was accustomed to doing. Anything for a peaceful existence, and no one never seemed to managed to win an argument against Constance Hardbroom- she had seen hundreds try in her eight weeks at the academy, and none had managed the impossible as of yet. The woman had the arguing skills of a hardened debater, a mine (no,** lan**dmine!) of knowledge to be pitted against her unprepared opponents, immediately destroying any contrary argument and quashing any opposing train of thought. The fact that she was able to wrap Miss Cackle around her little finger nine times out of ten didn't help either.

"Morning everyone!" said Imogen Drill happily as she bounced into the room, still glowing from her morning jog, the faintest glisten of sweat present on her tanned brow as she threw herself bodily into the nearest armchair, smiling in greeting at her colleagues, her green eyes sparkling with the sheer joy of being alive. "It's glorious out there this morning- so warm for November!"

Constance wrinkled her brow slightly at the sight of the dishevelled woman that had draped herself so inelegantly across the patched, comfortable chair. Much as she secretly liked Imogen's free and easy style and laidback manner of portraying herself, she couldn't help but automatically turn her nose up at the direct flaunting of the rules of etiquette that had been firmly instilled in her from her youth. One simply did not turn up with even a hair out of place, let alone looking as if they had spent the night in a forest! She had her morning regime down to a fine art now, but she had been forced to spent hours agonising over her appearance in her teenage years, trying in vain to meet the exacting standards of her formidable tutor, Hecketty Broomhead. She shuddered slightly at the memory of her college days and promptly buried the uncomfortable thoughts at the bottom of her mind. Now was not the occasion to revisit those dark recollections.

"Good morning, Miss Drill, may I offer you a cup of tea?" she enquired politely, a rare trace of warmth present in her voice as she addressed the gym mistress.

"Thank you, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen smiled back at the kind gesture, "that would be lovely!"

She accepted the steaming mug with both hands, cupping them around the comfortable warmth that was radiating from the welcoming vessel. She peered interestedly at Lavinia as she frantically reshuffled the deck of tarot cards in front of her with a faint sigh of disappointment.

"Not seeing what you want to see, Lavinia?" she joked subtly, trying to mask her own raging scepticism over the trust that the chanting mistress placed in her beloved cards.

"Not exactly, Imogen…" replied Miss Crotchet absentmindedly, "I keep drawing the same card- ten times in a row now!" she pulled another card from the deck, consulted it and replaced it with a frown growing on her narrow features. "Again!" she tutted.

"And what card might that be, Lavinia?" enquired the gentle tones of Amelia Cackle as she stepped into the staffroom and headed towards the table that was laden with her favourite breakfast treats, licking her lips in anticipation as she saw a large plate of gently warmed pain au chocolat, oozing sweet, sticky chocolate that was sitting next to a selection of different cheeses melted generously onto thick slices of granary bread. Mrs Tapioca certainly knew how to spoil her.

"Nothing, nothing…" muttered Lavinia. Flustered by the sudden interest in her hobby she managed to drop half of her prized cards onto the stone floor. Miss Drill joined her in the hunt underneath the wooden table as Lavinia scrabbled to pick them up; clutching them tightly to her chest once they were recovered. "You'll only mock me as you usually do…" Miss Crotchet muttered under her breath. Imogen felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for her as she saw the hurt flare in the chanting teacher's eyes.

"Well, maybe you could predict something for me, Lavinia?" she asked gently, supressing a smile as she saw Constance's dark, slender eyebrow raise at an impossible angle, a steely glint appearing in her eye, silently demanding to know what on earth had inspired the reasoning behind her odd request.

Lavinia's smile brightened- somebody was actually taking a fledgling interest in her hobby?

"Of course my dear, I would be delighted!" she beamed, brushing her escaping blonde hair out of her face as she once again magically fanned out the deck on the blue table cloth. "Pick a card, and see how they describe you!"

Imogen drew a random card from the collection and turned it over to reveal…

_The Sun_

"A very positive card, my dear, it is said to reflect happiness and contentment, vitality, self-confidence and success- very apt!" smiled Lavinia.

Amelia had been watching the interactions between the two women carefully, observing in her own way and smiling at the lengths that Imogen was going to in order to include their new arrival. She turned her gaze to Lavinia, pleased to see the smile that was playing around her face, a faint rosy flush present on her apple cheeks, unused to being the centre of attention.

"May I have a go, Lavinia?" she enquired gently, her outstretched hand hovering over the deck.

Lavinia nodded quickly.

Amelia pondered for a moment and selected the card to the furthest right.

_Fortitude_

"Once again, very accurate! A card that often suggests qualities of kindness, patience and stability as well as expressing inner strength" analysed Lavinia.

"Come on Constance, your turn!" smiled Amelia, turning her eyes to her thunderous looking deputy who was looking as if she would much rather remove her own eyes with blunt skewers than take part in an act that she considered so far beneath her that it could have barely been visible on the other side of the universe such was the contempt that she felt for all things that fell into the collective bracket of divination.

"Headmistress?" she enquired, barely containing the indignation in her voice, a furrow of vexed displeasure appearing in her unlined forehead.

Amelia said nothing but fixed her with an unrelenting stare until Constance conceded with an incensed, "Very well!" and flicked her extended casting fingers at the collection of cards, causing the central card to rise gently into the air and turn over to reveal…

_The Heirophant_

Lavinia blinked in shock. Never had a card been quite so well suited...

"Frequent adjectives associated with the Heriophant include knowledge, discipline, maturity, respect and tradition!" she announced triumphantly, watching Constance allow a small, proud smile to escape as her own impeccable qualities were listed.

"Let's see your card Lavinia!" suggested Imogen.

"Ah, well I know what card that I tend to draw, Imogen…" Lavinia tailed off with a rueful smile on her face, chuckling to herself as she shuffled her treasured cards.

"Go on!" teased Imogen, a wicked smile on her face as she had a sudden inkling as to the identity of the card.

Lavnina closed her eyes and extracted the card that sat directly in front of her, consulted it and burst into laughter as the familiar card came into sight once again. She held it up to the others, still giggling with laughter.

_The Fool_

Constance bit down on her thin, dark lip, desperately trying not to laugh at the sight of the jester on the card.

"How apt…" she thought to herself. There was some poetic justice to be found in the fact that even the chosen method of prophecy chose to label the believer as the blind imbecile that they appeared to everybody else as. A suppressed snigger from her right told her that Imogen was thinking along the same lines.

"Oh, that's priceless!" choked Lavinia as she placed the card on the table again, "it always finds me and I've no idea why!" She dissolved into hysterics again, rocking backwards and forwards in her wooden chair, tickled pink at the reappearance of the card.

Amelia exchanged a look with her colleagues, mentally debating if it was possible that Davina Bat's replacement was even more eccentric that her predecessor…

Xxx

Far above the tall turrets of Cackles Academy, a small witch with frizzy, mousy-brown hair was fighting for control of her broomstick due to the turbulence up in the clouds. Davina's broomstick control had never been exceptional, but she was descending in an ever tightening, ever decreasing spiral towards the ground, squealing in terror as she fought for control. She hit the cobbles of the courtyard rather harder than intended, staggering as she dismounted from her broom. Surveying her familiar surroundings caused her to question what was happening.

"That's odd?" she questioned in her light voice, taking care to articulate every word precisely, tilting her head to one side as she was prone to doing when thinking, distractedly combing her fingers through her untidy hair, checking that her prized conductors baton was still lodged firmly in place.

An empty courtyard confronted her. Usually on the first day of term it was positively teeming with the young pupils of the academy, huddled together in little groups, sharing stories of what happened over the summer break. Today, there was silence.

After leaving her broomstick in the broom shed, she strode into the main building, in search of any form of life.

The appalling cacophony hit her full on as she rounded the corner next to the Great Hall- a lurid, jazzy accompaniment was being hammered out on her beloved harmonium, shrill lyrics being bellowed over the top of the appalling din.

"_Stir the pot, Mix the brew, I'm a witch and so are you! We got the rock'n roll magic and the rock'n roll magic chant!"_

She blinked in disbelief at the short, blonde witch who was dancing along to her hellish musical interpretations.

"And who are you?" she marched up to the other witch, planting her hands on her narrow hips, outraged that some stranger had taken it into their head to improvise, and in such an appalling fashion upon her prized instrument.

The witch continued obliviously, her dancing becoming more and more manic the more involved with the music that she got.

"EXCUSE ME!" Davina bellowed, making the other woman jump and turn to face her.

"C-can I help you?" the other witch enquired softly.

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to be playing MY harmonium!" shrilled a near hysterical Miss Bat, alarmed at the thought of the damage that was being inflicted by the horrendous music being played by the other woman, successfully resisting the urge to bypass the infuriating intruder and stroke the wooden casing of the instrument by means of an apology to it for the torture that it had clearly been undergoing.

The other woman gave her a puzzled look and cleared her throat nervously.

"I think there's been some mistake, my name is Miss Crotchet. I'm the chanting teacher here at Cackles.."

She tailed off, backing away as she saw the mounting fury in the other woman's eyes.

It was at that moment that Miss Hardbroom chose to materialise out of thin air, seeking the source of the shrieking that had been interrupting the third year potions class.

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: This chapter provides the bizarre explanation for Davina's prolonged absence as well as setting up the final showdown between her and Lavinia. Any details from Davina's recollections are written in italics. Thank you for all the kind reviews and PM's that I have received so far- keep them coming!**

"What in the name of-" Constance broke off and looked in disbelief at the short witch who was trembling with supressed anger in front of her, her wispy hair quivering as she confronted the other witch standing at the keyboard of the decrepit harmonium. Davina?

"What on earth are you doing here, Davina?" she enquired with surprise evident in her ringing tones, her hazel eyes widening in disbelief, a finely sculpted eyebrow raising at an impossible degree to her smooth forehead, "we thought you'd left us and gone to Mongolia?"

There was slightly too much hopefulness reflected in that statement for Davina's liking.

"No, Constance!" she sniffed indignantly, still breathless with outrage over the mountain of developments that seemed to have taken place behind her unwitting back in her unfortunate absence. A conspiracy no doubt! "I had no intention of leaving Cackles, I now realise that I may be a day or two late for the start of term but all the same I see that as no reason to replace me without prior warning!…"

"Davina, today is the 8th of November! Term began two months ago!" replied an incredulous Miss Hardbroom, clapping her hand to her forehead in exasperation. Dealing with the vague chanting mistress, the complete antithesis to her cool, logical reasoning was even more taxing and potentially exasperating than a treble period with the disaster-prone Mildred Hubble. She knew that Davina was more than a little haphazard in her personal organisation, but to lose two months in time seemed to have taken her scattiness to a whole new level. "Two months!" she repeated clearly to the chaotic witch, stressing each syllable loudly as if speaking to a particularly backward child, irked that Davina hadn't taken much notice of her scandalised announcement. That woman could get underneath her pale skin quite unlike anybody else she had ever come across, and with no apparent effort! So infuriating was Davina to Constance that she broke out in what could only be described metaphorically as hives of irritation, barely capable of spending more than five galling minutes in her company before itching to take an incensed verbal swipe at the woman. "Surely you weren't chanting for twelve weeks solid with your Mongolian friends?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as her frustration with the elderly witch grew, fuelling her growing impatience at the lack of a plausible reason for her prolonged absence.

"Ooh, not Mongolian undertone chanting?" shuddered a nearly -forgotten Miss Crotchet, "I can't stand all that wailing and screeching! Gives me such a headache…" she continued to reason quietly to herself, her voice becoming barely audible, massaging her temples in pain at the thought of the imaginary din.

Both the other witches turned and stared at their colleague- Constance in surprise at finding herself not only whole-heartedly agreeing with something that Lavinia had dared to say, but supressing a satisfied smile at the distraught look that had passed Davina's face as her beloved form of chant was criticised in such a damning manner.

"REALLY!" screamed Miss Bat, so incensed that magenta sparks shot out of the end of her fingers in an emotive display as she turned on her heel and flounced out of the Great Hall, her muddy robes trailing behind her, leaving little flecks of dirt on the floor that Constance vanished instantly with a disapproving glare. No need to ask where Davina was heading. She turned to an agog Lavinia who mouthed a question silently, mildly traumatised by her first exposure to the famed outbursts of the temperamental chanting teacher, "Who is that?" pointing a shaky finger at the rapidly retreating figure of Miss Bat.

"Ah," remarked Constance drily, "I see that you have just met Davina!"

She allowed a wry smile to play around her thin lips, "Don't worry; she's only like that the majority of the time!"

Her words made little effort to reassure Lavinia who clutched at the casing of the harmonium for support, more in the dawning astonishment at the realisation of another of her tarot prophecies.

_The Wheel of Fortune_

Four in one day was a record. Four more than the previous record of successful predictions.

Xxx

Amelia Cackle sat down behind the polished wooden table in the staffroom drumming her bored fingers on top of the gleaming surface- only one lesson had passed since breakfast, but she was already yearning for her break time cheesecake. Minutes were turning into hours as she sat in her fed-up stupor, dragging past so slowly that she could have sworn that time had ground to an exhausted halt. She sat twiddling her fingers, knowing that she could only clean the table a certain amount of times to alleviate the boredom and distract her from her dessert-based hankerings. She had marked her class's books in five minutes flat, for the first time cursing herself for her leniency, for not being more like Constance and setting mountains of homework which could divert her attention for longer.

It was no good. She couldn't last a second longer.

Craftily looking around to check that Imogen was still engrossed in her monthly fitness magazine, ogling the subject of the not-so-originally-titled "Handsome Hunk of the Month" that stood in a muscular pose in the centre-fold of the publication, his dark locks of hair blowing in the wind, displaying his perfectly tanned, bronzed body, looking for all his worth like a Greek god, Amelia pointed her finger at the vacant plate that sat in front of her and smiled in devious satisfaction as a large wedge of cherry cheesecake appeared from nowhere on the plate. "That is the perfect thing about magic food!" she mused to herself- as one was merely creating a facsimile of taste and texture, there were no calories present! But it was a weak comparison to the real thing that she was dreaming of. "Still…" she reasoned as she picked up the delicate, silver cake-fork and plunged it into the creamy treat. It resolved her craving temporarily even if it was slightly lacking in some things. What happened next nearly caused her to drop her prized treat in shock before she could take a single bite.

The heavy door burst open with a tremendous bang, crashing into the side of the stationary cupboard with a resonating crack of wood on wood that caused Imogen's lightning-fast reactions to kick in. The mortal response to the fear of unknown attack caused her to throw herself backwards athletically over the arm of her chair, smacking her nose upon the unforgiving wooden floorboards, her magazine going flying over her shoulder.

"Ouch!" yelped Miss Drill, mentally cursing her overreaction to the sudden noise.

"Hmmph!" came a familiar harrumph from the doorway as a small, thin blur dressed in flowing, black lace robes came clattering past wildly, not pausing to utter a greeting but wrenching open the door of the stationary cupboard with such force that one of the wrought-iron handles was pulled from the splintered wood. The mysterious figure emitted an exasperated scream before sealing the doors with a blast of green sparks.

Amelia blinked slowly, rubbing her eyes, convinced that she was having a particularly vivid hallucination. She pushed the magic cheesecake away from her suspiciously. "Better go easy on it for a while…" she muttered to herself.

"Amelia," questioned Imogen from her assumed seat on the floorboards, "Was that..."

Amelia looked thankfully at her PE mistress who was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, "You saw her too?" she sighed in relief, stretching out a helpful hand to Imogen and hauling her to her feet.

"Was that, Davina?"…

A loud, hysterical sob to the affirmative came from the supplies cupboard.

xxx

The second that the bell rang for break, Constance Hardbroom appeared with her arms folded neatly across her chest, a faint jangle from the keys held on the chain around her narrow waist announcing her dignified arrival which was followed closely by the contrasting entrance of a wheezing Lavinia Crotchet who had ran at a gallop from the Great Hall, desperate to learn more about the identity of the stranger that had interrupted her morning practise.

"Headmistress, I must inform you that we have an unexpected development on our hands! Davi-"

Constance was cut off by Amelia looking back at her amusedly, a twinkle forming in her blue eyes as she surveyed her obviously distressed deputy. "I know, Constance!" she said wearily, "I am currently trying to persuade Davina to leave the confines of the cupboard, but she seems very reluctant to lift the enchantment that she has placed on the lock!"

"I see.." sniffed Constance briefly, her narrow nostrils flaring with impatience as she brushed Amelia aside and assumed authority as she usually did in times of crisis.

"Davina?" her elongated tones enquired loftily, as she bent down from her impressive height to the frosted glass of the cupboard window. "Davina, I will be forced to break this door down by force if you do not relent and come out voluntarily!"

An indecipherable murmur came from the cupboard. As usual, Imogen translated.

"Miss Bat says that although she is very sorry for causing such a scene, she cannot abide confrontation and would prefer to remain in her cupboard until all of the heightened emotions of the last hour have died down…" she said patiently, providing a supportive voice for her former friend.

"Rubbish!" Constance whispered infuriatedly under her breath. She raised her casting fingers to shoulder height, motioning with a sweep of her bony hand for the other women present to back away and take cover. Seconds later, the sound of a loud detonation erupted and a cloud of blue smoke announced the return of Davina Bat. She staggered out of the wreckage of her favourite cupboard, clutching her smouldering, crumpled hat to her head, her hair standing on end poked out at a bizarre angle from underneath the brim, dust falling in copious amounts from her already grimy cloak, whimpering as she fell to the floor in an emotionally exhausted faint.

"Constance! Was that really necessary!" sighed Amelia, shooting a disapproving look at her deputy who was blowing smoke away from her long, slender fingertips, a slight expression of guilty pleasure present on her face which she took the care to hide quickly from her fellow colleagues.

"My apologies, Miss Cackle, I rather over-estimated the strength of Davina's enchantment!"

She attempted to excuse her actions by restoring the cupboard to its former glory with gentle flick of her fingers, even taking the time to re-attach the handle that had become detached in Davina's fury.

By now Amelia was cradling Davina gently in her arms, trying to persuade her to trust her shaking limbs, like a ewe encouraging a new-born lamb to take its first teetering steps upon its unsteady legs.

"Now then Davina," she comforted, "not that I'm not pleased to see you again, but what on earth has been happening?" she soothed gently, easing the frail witch into a comfortable armchair and summoning a bowl of restorative fruit salad, smiling as Davina tucked into the feast in front of her, dribbles of berry juice running in a multi-coloured stream down her wrinkled chin, her eyes lighting up at the first intake of nutrition in a long time. The pupils' nickname of "fruitbat" was not that far off the mark sometimes, she mused to herself…

"Well, Amelia," she said in her usual quavering soprano, "It's a very long, very complicated story…"

"It usually is!" thought Constance silently to herself.

Davina cleared her throat fussily and tilted her bird-like head to one side, peering through her small spectacles at her captive audience as she recalled the bizarre train of events that had occurred over the summer…

"_As you know, I had gone to visit Li Chow-Zing, the founder of the Mongolian chanting group that I stay with in their community in the Mountains of the Moon in Inner Mongolia. They have to live in the mountains so as to not draw notice from non-magic folk to the rather, well, __**destructive **__nature of the chant which is rather an unfortunate side-effect of the melodic vibrations. At least the effects can be blamed on rock-slides and avalanches by the locals…_

_Anyway, we had a simply glorious summer, chanting from dawn until dusk, collecting and eating rare mountain flora and fauna as well as tending to the lovely yaks of course!- all a simply heavenly existence and I was greatly saddened when my time came to leave. I have already resolved to spend my retirement days in that idyllic setting! What could be more fulfilling than allowing the artistic dream of skipping barefoot through the mountain pass, strengthening the soul with euphonious song! However, as a parting favour to Li, I agreed to transport a rather rare and unusual herb that he had cultivated- purely to aid meditation studies I was assured!-to a friend of his in England- he was most insistent upon the package reaching its destination unharmed! But I told him that he could trust me implicitly! We said our fond farewells, arranged a date for my next visit and he bestowed a gift of vintage fermented yaks milk- a treasured community possession!- onto me, and wished me a safe flight._

_At first, my return to England was unhindered and I was quite enjoying myself, swooping over the mountains on my broomstick, allowing the wind to ruffle through my hair! However, an unfortunate incident with Mongolian broom-traffic control when they witnessed me performing a loop-the-loop next to a non-magic commercial airliner resulting in the near crash of the craft due to the pilot's attention being distracted, lead to me being flagged down over the border between Inner and Outer Mongolia, over a charming city called Baotou- where I was detained underneath a public disorder act. Many hours later, they came to interview me about my somewhat unruly behaviour and were highly interested in the contents of the parcel for the gentleman in England! So much so that after I told them of its meditative properties, they were so impressed that they took it to their Commander-General! I was so proud for Li, that his horticultural research was not going unnoticed at last! But then, they informed me that the parcel contained a rather suspicious material, a banned element to be precise!"_

She broke off from her recollections, leaned forward and whispered the identity of the mystery substance in Amelia's ear, supressing a giggle behind her lace-gloved hand. Amelia's eyes widened dramatically.

"What did you do, Davina?" she questioned in amazement.

Davina sighed dramatically and returned to her story with added gusto.

"_I had no alibi, and no witness to back me up. I was treated as an accomplice and placed in a crowded temporary prison until my legal associates could be contacted! But I would not go down without a fight! It may surprise you to know that I can be quite militant when I put my mind to it Miss Cackle! I summoned the witches who were sharing my cell, trapped in our collective hell! I shared with them the wondrous secrets of Mongolian undertone chanting, and the walls began to shake and crumble under the power of our combined chanting!"_

She broke off, a confused frown appearing on her features.

"_Had I known that some of the most dangerous witch-criminals in Europe were being detained there I would not have attempted such an outrageous stunt, especially as they all managed to escape, except for me! I was really in it deep by now! But, as luck would have it, the Commander-General took a rather odd view on my state of mind and referred me to the resident psychoanalyst- he thought I showed signs of insanity! Me insane! Of course, the very idea was preposterous, but I had no choice but to exaggerate the symptoms that he had described!"_

She paused to tut in indignation.

_After the publication of a rather scathing report into my supposed "mental instabilities" it was deemed that I had been duped into acting as the instigator for both regrettable incidents and was released without further question!_

She finished and looked back at her bemused superior. "And that Miss Cackle, is the full reason for why I returned late this year!"

"Quite incredible…"muttered Constance. Only Davina could manage to be implicated in such bizarre acts of crime and escape without a blemish on her name or sunny nature. Quite incredible…

"But then!" shrilled Davina, rising confidently from her armchair, "After expecting to return to the welcoming family fold of Cackles Academy after my ordeal, I find an imposter in our midst! A cuckoo in the nest! A treacherous witch who has stolen my position on the staff at Cackles! HER!" she shrieked, pointing a shaking digit at the cowering Lavinia Crotchet.

"Davina," soothed Imogen, taking the furious witch by the shoulders in an attempt to prevent her springing at Lavinia, "Miss Cackle appointed Miss Crotchet because she thought that you weren't returning to Cackles! We all thought that you had gone to Mongolia for good, especially as we received no word from you!"

"Yes, well!" The logical statement had somewhat knocked the wind out of Davina's blustering sails.

"I think the question being posed, Headmistress," interjected Constance coolly, "is that of, which witch should remain on the staff at Cackles, and which witch's services are no longer required!"

Amelia dreaded moments where she would have to exercise her authority as the casting vote. She sighed unhappily and looked up at the two pleading faces of the witches in front of her. It would break Davina's heart to leave Cackles, but classes had been achieving remarkably better results underneath the more modern approach of Lavinia Crotchet if the pantomime rehearsals were anything to go by…

Any woman who could persuade the rigid, controlled Constance Hardbroom into donning the fluffy outfit and character of the Fairy Godmother must indeed have hidden depths of resources!

She came to her decision. She climbed wearily to her aching feet to lend slightly more authority to her words.

"Lavinia and Davinia, you both have proven yourselves to be valuable members of the Cackles community. However, we only have the funding to employ one chanting mistress. I have concluded that you both with run assessed classes for the duration of the week to enable me to make this tricky decision!"

She offered a warm, reassuring smile to both candidates before leaving hastily to take the second year spells class, leaving Imogen the unenviable task to try to bodily separate the opposing witches.

"Then this is war, Lavinia Crotchet!" hissed Miss Bat, face to face with her enemy.

"It most certainly is, Davina Bat!" retorted Miss Crotchet, steeling herself for the impending fight.

"Then may the best witch win!" quipped Constance sarcastically with a roll of her hazel eyes before vanishing to teach her next class.

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **

**Well, I've finally got around to finishing this story! Sorry for the delay, but I've had exams galore and this story did get plagued by the dreaded writer's block for quite a while, hence the fact that I went off on a 25,000 word tangent to avoid finishing it! A big thank you to everyone who left such lovely reviews and PM's! My thanks must also go once more to the lovely, ever-patient LongVodka who has helped to lift the block that I've had for quite a while on how to take this fic further *awards cookies and vodka***

**Hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcome!**

Sunlight was pouring into the Great Hall of Cackles Academy, bathing the room richly in its golden glow as the metallic clang of the bell from the tower summoned the young witches to the daily assembly. The usual sound of shuffling feet in hob-nailed boots and the bored, idle chatter of the morning echoed around the lofty acoustic as the girls filed into the hall and took their places on the rows of wooden seats, desperate for the terminal boredom of the assembly to be over as soon as humanely possible.

"All rise!" Miss Hardbroom's clear, ringing voice projected through the echoing space, casting an immediate hush over the assembled witches, a respectful quiet falling as girls to their feet in one collective, well-rehearsed movement, frantically straightening crooked striped ties, re-tying stray, fraying bootlaces and combing wispy straggles of errant hair from their faces in a frantic bid to pass the exacting standards of appearance set by the demanding deputy head. Angering Miss Hardbroom was a very unwise choice at any time; an act that usually bore consequences akin to poking a dozing lioness in the eye, one foolish move would prevent a deathly, sonorous snarl, the immediate, athletic, eloquent pounce on her victim, not relinquishing her mighty grip until the wrongdoer was reduced to a gibbering wreck by her venting rage, staggering away a trembling but wiser person, usually with the additional benefit of one thousand impossibly long lines to aid effect.

The tall, stately witch materialised with her arms folded tightly across her thing chest, her blazing hazel eyes combing the hall for the sight of any miscreants, mentally checking off the usual suspects.

She was a vision of perfection, orderliness and control, radiating dignity and immense power from every pore of her flawless beauty. Not one ebony hair was out of place, each strand herded relentlessly into her trademark tight bun that sat precisely in the middle of her head, not budging one degree from centre, a metaphor for her exacting standards and unrelenting stance. Her faint, unobtrusive makeup was expertly applied; her slight body encased in its usual black, sweeping dress of a soft, velvety cloth that contrasted strikingly with the pale, alabaster of her complexion, a garment that hugged her enviable figure and showcased her lofty height without resorting to the undignified exposure of flesh. The final addition of the silver, jangling keys to the school around her narrow waist installed an immediate sense of authority, establishing as the real power behind the throne.

Satisfied, she gave a curt nod of her head by the means of a morning greeting and opened the heavy wooden door behind her to allow the assembled members of staff to process onto the raised platform, such was the usual tradition.

A frenzy of confused whispers broke out, intrigue spreading like a highly contagious rash amongst the pupils as a rather familiar additional member of staff made her flustered reappearance at the back of the line, straightening her crooked baton that was stuck haphazardly amongst the birds nest of mousey curls that was her frizzy hair, her small fingers plucking nervously at her black lacy gloves as she whispered quiet assurances to herself underneath her breath, taking her customary rapid, small sequence of steps to stand in her usual place next to the Headmistress, seeking some friendly, understanding support of the brand that only Amelia was capable of administering, only to find her way blocked rather intrusively by Lavinia Crotchet.

"Is that?..." rumours were rife and flying faster than the maximum combined velocity of the broomsticks that were stacked neatly in the courtyard, the room buzzing with various, highly convoluted ideas, each growing in obscurity and absurdity by the second, multiplying and expanding like a mutated disease. Within five seconds Davina had gone from being late back from hols because she was tending to a sick aunt to being the rumoured new chairwoman of the Witches Guild (a suggestion that provoked derisive snorts of laughter), to being caught up in a major political scandal that was threatening to erupt any day soon and had turned to Cackle's for protection.

"Good morning girls!" Amelia's warm tones rang out, providing her usual warm greeting, the perfect, sunny antidote to the dismal grey mood of the morning mood.

"Good morning, Miss Cackle" came the droned reply, a faint murmur of acknowledgement breaking through from the assembled ranks who were wishing that they were anywhere else, (hopefully still asleep in their narrow, iron-framed beds with the lumpy, thin mattresses that you could feel all of the surviving, rusty springs digging into, a constant reminder that they were here to learn witchcraft rather than to indulge in luxuries) rather than standing to attention in the Great Hall at such an ungodly hour.

Amelia's bright smile seemed to radiate light and hope, her blue eyes twinkling with the sheer delight of a new day dawning as she surveyed her cherished pupils, each a daughter in her own adoptive family, each with their own unique traits and idiosyncrasies that she knew all too well by now.

"Let us begin our day by singing our school song, "Onwards, Ever Striving Onwards!"" Her cheery voice rang through the hall. She raised a puzzled eyebrow at the supressed giggles that was starting to punctuate her speech; little did she know that the sniggers of laughter were breaking out at the childish antics that were taking places behind her back.

Davina Bat and Lavinia Crotchet had been jostling each other, edging ever closer to the prized harmonium to be the chosen witch to play the school song, their movements becoming more pronounced as Amelia's welcome had progressed, a slight backwards shuffle from Lavinia had provoked an "accidental" shove from Davina as she had backed into the annoying woman and trodden on her foot. At the words "sing our school song," any assumed niceties and pretence had been dropped as the two witches turned and made an undignified break for the velvet-topped, wooden bench-stool that was sat in front of the instrument, a literal race to the finish. Davina skidded to a halt on the dusty wooden floorboards, cursing under her breath as Lavinia's slightly faster reactions and longer legs had enabled her to scramble onto the seat first and play the introduction, albeit the first few chords coming out slightly strange and in a completely unrelated key as she fought for her balance after hurling herself onto the seat, a slightly smug smile on her face as she grinned back at her infuriated competitor who was resting her elbows on top of the casing, glaring back at her with a look that could sour milk at fifty paces.

Constance and Imogen exchanged a despairing look whilst leading the singing, attempting to boost the overall volume as it was evident that the girls may be present in body, but certainly not in spirit. It was certainly going to be a long week.

The dirge drew to a close, the last inspiring line, "at Cackles Academy," echoing out with the usual vocal stress placed upon the hallowed name of the institution. Amelia cast a look over her shoulder that froze Davina and Lavinia in their collective tracks, "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind leaving us for a while?" she smiled gently.

"Now then, a few notices before classes begin this morning," she announced clearly after waiting the two witches to file out of the room, "as you will be aware, Miss Bat has finally returned to us after suffering the consequences of an unfortunate diplomatic incident, I am happy to report that she is well and looking forward to resuming her classes. However," she took a moment to pause, "Cackle's is a fair and just school that believes in bestowing equal opportunities amongst all members of its community, and I speak with equal certainty that the thought of Miss Crotchet being expected to leave us after signing a binding magical contract and committing to teaching at the school is not fair to her, so therefore have decided to assess the teaching quality of both witches to allow me to make the tricky decision as to which teacher shall remain upon the staff. I took the decision to allow you into my confidence over these rather awkward affairs girls, as at the end of the day, you should be allowed a say in the selection of staff that teach you, and I know that I can trust you to act with the utmost maturity and implicit respect for everyone involved."

She smiled kindly at her assembled group of students who had all seemed to have simultaneously woken up, ripples of speculation spreading through the room, the girls sitting up a little straighter in their wooden chairs as they tried to piece together the missing information in the statement that they were hearing. Just what had Miss Bat done? And who exactly would be chosen to stay?

The bell for lessons chimed appropriately, an echoing monotone which abruptly silenced any questioning whispers which were beginning to filter through the assembled witches.

"Nothing like being saved by the bell..." thought Amelia to herself as she motioned for the girls to file out from the back of the hall.

Xxx

A few hours later, the bell tolled for lunch and the previously silent corridors were now teeming with chattering young witches, an undeterminable blend of noise that rudely assaulted the sensitive eardrums of Amelia Cackle as she and Miss Hardbroom staggered shakily from the Chanting classroom, exhausted after the draining ordeal of assessing a shared class between Davina and Lavinia.

"Mongolian chant meets Rock n' Roll?" gasped Constance weakly, clutching her aching head between her cool hands. "I have never heard such an appalling cacophony in all my born days!"

Amelia winced at the mere memory. "It's not my fault that neither of them would back down as to who would take the class!" she protested feebly, knowing that the appalling din was by far the least trivial of events that had taken place. "It could have been worse…"

"Oh, really!" the sarcasm that Constance usually worked hard to keep at a minimum when she was addressing her senior member of staff was present in biting abundance as she rounded upon Amelia.

"Umpteen replication spells being cast upon the music? Notes and time signatures flying everywhere in a dark swarm? The incredibly dangerous act of a multi- amplification charm being cast upon a group of Mongolian chanters? It a mere wonder that the school isn't in ruins following the devastating vocal power transmitted from that unfortunate incident! Shredded copies of "Eye of Toad"! Severe damage to the classroom harmonium! A trail of destruction certainly! Need I continue Miss Cackle?" she rolled her eyes as the flow of damning events tripped off her tongue.

Amelia shuffled uncomfortably, "How was I supposed to know that Lavinia had rearranged all the pipes inside the instrument so that it wouldn't play in tune when Davina tried to accompany the chanting!" she huffed.

"Well, I would have surmised that it would only be blind faith to believe that Lavinia would not have attempted to retaliate after Davina placed a silencing spell upon her behind her back whilst she was demonstrating advanced popular chant!" snapped Constance, lengthening her stride so that Amelia had to break into a slow jog to keep up with her deputy's brisk pace, her heeled leather boots clicking smartly upon the stone floors as she swept along.

"This entire situation is getting completely out of hand! Imogen told me this morning when she went to write up the week's sports results in morning break that Fenella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood had appropriated her blackboard, had written a list of betting odds and were surrounded by a heaving crowd of students placing money on who would be asked to leave! It is blatantly obvious Headmistress that those two women could not be placed within one hundred miles of each other without some form of chaos breaking out! Dare I say it, but their behaviour over these past two days has portrayed Mildred Hubble and her friends as veritable saints!" She threw up her hands in exasperation as they rounded the corner towards the staffroom, still bickering over the morning's disastrous turn of events as they climbed the steps, preparing to take their own lunch break in the relative tranquillity offered by the solitude of the staffroom.

"Who's on dinner duty today?" questioned Constance, peering through the staffroom's open doorway at a room that was empty apart from Imogen who was curled up in her favourite armchair still reading her "Sports Monthly" magazine, before raising at finely sculpted eyebrow as the horrendous truth dawned inside her disbelieving mind as Amelia stared back at her in shock with ever widening eyes at the realisation of her own stupidity.

"You didn't?" questioned the dubious deputy head, her usually level tones tinged with incredulous disbelief as she shook her head slowly, "Please tell me Amelia that you didn't…"

Amelia gulped. There was a potential crisis brewing within the Great Hall.

"I'll be back in a minute!" she yelled back over her shoulder as she uncharacteristically broke into a sprint, and dashed off towards the impending madness.

Xxx

It was by chance that both Davina Bat and Lavinia Crotchet had been placed on lunch duty and were currently exchanging hostilities over the serving of dessert which today was a Cackle's stalwart- Mrs Tapioca's notoriously-famed semolina pudding. Greyish-white, exceedingly lumpy and distinctly inedible it had the stodgy consistency of wallpaper paste with the principle difference between the two substances being that the wallpaper paste was marginally more appetising.

"I don't know why you even bother, Lavinia!" hissed Davina as she ladled yet another unappetising portion into the green china bowl and thrust it sharply toward an unsuspecting Mildred Hubble who accepted her dessert meekly and trudged off to join her friends. Miss Bat was not in the mood to be crossed.

"Once Amelia comes to her senses, she'll realised that there is no place whatsoever within the hallowed walls of Cackle's Academy for a hip-swinging, rock 'a hula, dancing, prancing, jiving buffoon!"

Lavinia's eyes narrowed as she bit back the retort that she longed to throw at her enemy, as the poisonous insults kept tumbling from between Davina's lips, merely satisfying herself with sploshing Drusilla Paddock's semolina into her bowl so hard that a cloud of dense, lumpy, grey splatters flew into the air and landed with pin-point accuracy on the lacy sleeve of Miss Bat.

Davina fell silent and turned to her nemesis, trembling with rage, the conductor's baton quivering within her mousy hair as she planted her hands on her narrow hips.

"You did that on purpose!" she snarled, seizing her metal serving spoon and brandishing it in front of her as an impromptu weapon.

"So what if I did?" growled Lavinia, using her slight height advantage to glare in a hostile manner at her fellow member of staff, the heated exchange between the two witches causing the entire hall to fall silent, gossip silenced as they turned around in their seats, eagerly watching the battle play out in front of them.

"You'll pay for that Lavinia Crotchet!" shrieked Davina hysterically as all reason abandoned her and she vented her frustrations in the first way that came to her. Without taking her eyes off the other witch, she shovelled up a large spoonful of semolina and flicked it into her rival's face with a shrill giggle of glee as Lavinia tried to wipe the sticky mess from her eyes.

"Right!" roared Lavinia, her patience deserting her as she retaliated by seizing a china bowl full of dessert and inverted it over Davina's head, inciting yet another screech of rage from the elderly woman as she turned to her magic. By this time, the hall was in uproar as the girls began to chant their support for the two women who were now locked in combat.

"**Sago-suet, mousse-sorbet, taopica similae-"** Davina began, only to be interrupted by Lavinia completing her enchantment.

"—Sunday junket, curds and whey, semolina nunc soufflé!"

The two combined spells of the famed "Semolina Bowl Trick" collided over the dessert, causing it to bubble and froth uncontrollably, rapidly multiplying the gelatinous contents into a wild, uncontrolled stream of semolina which overflowed from the stainless steel serving dish in a raging torrent as the two women continued to hurl large quantities of the pudding over each other in a frenzied food-fight.

"This is too good an opportunity to miss!" breathed Enid in Mildred's ear, a mischievous grin lighting up her face as she carefully took aim and pelted the haughty features of Ethel Hallow with her pudding. Mildred giggled helplessly as an enraged Ethel took no time in returning the gesture, but her lack of aim caused her to catch Jadu full in the face. Ruby winked at Jadu as the two witches simultaneously cast the Semolina Bowl trick upon Ethel's dessert, causing a ceiling-high fountain of sticky pudding to erupt from the dish like a volcano expelling lava, coating the occupants of the entire table in the gluey compound.

Within moments, the tranquil scene had transformed into all-out war as the entire school chose to settle old scores within the distracting insanity of the situation, a flurry of puddings were being thrown in a snowstorm of erupting magnitude, the Double Fosters Effect being created due to the same spell being cast by the witches on each other at the same time and was behind ensuring that the semolina kept multiplying in a sticky river upon the wooden boards, total anarchy breaking out as the shrieking girls pelted each other with whatever came to hand, pristine uniforms soon disappearing beneath a lumpy, greyish layer of semolina, the portraits of the past members of the Hallow family sinking without trace beneath the flying globules, Miss Bat's prized harmonium taking many direct hits, leaving it in a very sorry state as the river of semolina rose to knee-deep across the entire room, multiplying incessantly as the two authority figures in the room remained fighting within the torrents, the bursts of magic flowing from their fingers only fuelling the disastrous occasion.

It was at this unfortunate moment that Amelia Cackle chose to peep around the door.

She gasped in horror and swiftly ducked, thanking her lucky stars that her reflexes greatly improved following the calamitous arrival of Mildred Hubble upon the school volleyball team. However, her actions weren't rapid enough to prevent a gooey residue of semolina from clinging resolutely to her grey hair, long tendrils of hair being plastered across her wrinkled face, splattering pudding across her horn-rimmed glasses. It was in circumstances such as these that a tactful retreat was called for. She ran as fast as her aching legs would carry her towards the staffroom.

Xxx

Constance had just settled down at the staffroom table with a steaming cup of tea and was engaging in polite conversation with Imogen when the door burst open and the despairing figure of Amelia Cackle tripped over the threshold, clutching at the back of a chair for support, her chest heaving from the unexpected exercise, she looked up at Constance with wild eyes and an expression of blind panic.

"Bedlam!" she gasped, clutching the throbbing stich in her side, "The girls, Lavinia, Davina! They've all gone mad!"

Constance was having to fiercely bite the inside of her lip as she looked at the bedraggled figure of the headmistress in sheer amusement, her hair plastered across her flushed face, her glasses coated in a viscous, lumpy goo. She could feel the corners of her mouth twitching in humour as she fought to contain her laughter.

"Constance, please!" begged Amelia, collapsing into a chair and placing her aching head between her hands, "Sort it out!"

"With pleasure, headmistress," she smirked, rising to her feet, folding her arms stiffly across her bony chest and dematerialising to the scene of chaos.

Xxx

By this time, the occupants of the Great Hall were waist-deep in semolina, the more resourceful girls standing upon the table tops, still determinedly waging their individual battles and delighting in the sheer pandemonium that was taking place amidst the supposed ignorance of the other members of staff whilst Davina and Lavinia were still doggedly attempting to drown each other in the stream of pudding.

From her invisible state, Constance flinched; bristling at the sight of such debauched disorder, gritting her teeth and preparing to make the occupants of the hall wish momentarily that they had never been born.

"And just what do you think you are all doing!" an enraged hiss filtered through the room, stilling the majority of occupants in utter fear as the majestic sorceress appeared directly in the centre of the wooden platform. However, Davina and Lavinia continued struggling.

"Here," gasped a breathless Davina, straightening up as she flung an enormous wave of semolina towards Lavinia "Take that!"

What happened next appeared to take place in slow motion to the horrified witch. Lavinia ducked and the cloud swooped over her head, heading directly for the elegant witch who had just appeared upon the stage.

"Oh, tree frogs and toadstools…" she whispered frantically, wringing her lace-gloved hands together as the missile continued on its inevitable course, preparing herself for the fate worse than death that would surely befall her within the next few milliseconds, her fluttering heart stilling and plummeting within her chest as she winced in preparation for what was about to happen.

The airborne pudding collided with Constance's surprised face with a satisfying SPLAT!

A deadly silence hung in the air as the deputy head fought to maintain her icy dignity as she scraped the glutinous mess from her complexion, blinking furiously in an attempt to shed the substance from her eyelashes, immediately raising her casting fingers to shoulder height as she cast a powerful stopping spell to counteract the Double Foster's Effect, halting the growing surge of dessert.

"I think," she growled menacingly from between firmly clenched teeth, injecting venom into every enraged syllable that she spat from between her thin lips, "I think, Davina, Lavinia, we need to have a little talk…"

And with that, she folded her arms across her chest and transported the three women to the staffroom.

The hush was broken by Enid leaping from the top of the table to re-join her friends.

"This is brilliant!" she cheered, "and we didn't even get into trouble!" She began walking nonchalantly towards the door. "Come on, let's go!"

"Enid Nightshade!" Miss Hardbroom's invisible tones echoed threateningly within the lofty acoustic, "Just where do you think you are going?"

The invisible voice continued, a tone of delight was barely concealed beneath the strict tones as it admonished the assembled pupils.

"May I take the greatest pleasure in assuring you that not one member of the school community will be allowed to leave the Great Hall until it is spotless!"

A large collection of mops, buckets and cleaning materials appeared from nowhere upon the raised platform, the doors sealing themselves magically as the girls suddenly found themselves wearing a variety of brightly coloured aprons and rubber gloves.

"And there will be no magic of any sort! Do I make myself clear?"

Enid looked dejectedly at her feet, aware of the furious looks that she was receiving from her fellow students.

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," they mumbled collectively in defeat.

Xxx

Amelia Cackle sighed despondently as Davina and Lavinia appeared in front of her, their heads hung in shame as they realised the absurdity of their situation, a milky residue from their semolina-sodden robes dripping quietly to the floor.

"Where's Constance?" she enquired curiously.

Moments later a brief flash of light announced the arrival of the dishevelled deputy head, her dignity rigidly intact despite the fact that solidifying lumps of dessert were scattered liberally through her dark, ebony hair, and a tell-tale milky sheen was present upon her face indicating that her reactions had been slower than Amelia's. Wordlessly, she stalked to Amelia's side, fixing a seething look of intense loathing upon the two chanting mistresses that had deigned to place her in such a degrading scenario.

"Well, ladies…" began Amelia in an uncharacteristically stern tone of voice as she surveyed the abashed women in front of her almost like a pair of naughty students, "What have you to say for yourselves?"

A supressed snort broke roughly into her serious question. All four witches rounded upon the sniggering PE teacher who was curled up in her armchair in the corner, humiliation and anger glinting in their eyes as they stared coldly at the choking woman.

"Sorry!" gasped Imogen, desperately fighting to control the irresistible urge to burst out laughing at the sight of the four, usually impeccable women who were covered from head to toe in semolina.

"I-I'm allergic to semolina…" she invented quickly whilst rushing to the door, unable to contain herself anymore. Despite the heavy timber of the door masking the majority of external sound, peals of helpless guffaws were still audible from the echoing passage outside as Imogen slumped against the wall, clutching her side as tears of mirth welled up in her eyes at the ridiculous sight that had confronted her disbelieving eyes.

Tutting in disbelief as she caught sight of her tousled reflection in the refection in the window, Constance closed her eyes and placed her hand upon the top of her head, faintly muttering a complex incantation beneath her breath. Seconds later, she permitted a small smile to escape as she caught sight of the awestruck expressions of the witches behind her as they surveyed her usual morning routine for the first time as her escaped, unruly hair began to rewind itself neatly into her customary, tight bun, the indelible pudding stains lifting themselves immediately from her black velvet gown and fading into nothingness, the golden light of the spell winding itself gently around her torso, restoring her blemished appearance to its usual pristine format, a satisfied smirk playing around her lips as she realised quite how ridiculous her colleagues all looked in comparison.

"Well?" persisted Amelia, returning her attention to the two witches in front of her.

Tears began to form in Davina's eyes as she looked up at the gentle face of her old friend that had disappointment and hurt etched all over it as she continued to reprimand her colleague.

"I-It's all my f-fault," she sobbed quietly, dissolving into tears as she tried to formulate a reasoned chain of events to describe the debacle that had just taken place, "I thought that coming b-back to C-cackles would m-make things better, b-but it hasn't and n-now I've ruined everything!"

"Now, now Davina" began Amelia gently, but she was interrupted by the surprise of Lavinia reaching out and placing a comforting arm around her enemy, a symbol of a temporary truce appearing between the warring witches. Davina flinched slightly at the unwelcome contact but did not make to pull away.

"I never came here to bring any ill feelings", Lavinia whispered gently to Davina, moved by the sight of her fellow chanting teacher being reduced to tears at the prospect of having to leave Cackles, "Purely to follow what I thought fate had in store for me and to do what I love, which is teaching. Please forgive me, Davina, but these events do seem to have got rather out of hand…"

Davina swallowed, and thought carefully. "I-I appreciate what you say, L-Lavinia, b-but, it feels as if I'm the one t-that's encroaching n-now, y-you've settled in, started to b-blossom here, a-and it would be c-cruel for me to expect y-you to g-go, especially w-when it was all my own s-stupid fault that I didn't c-come back this summer…" resolution was dawning in her eyes as she turned to Miss Cackle.

"No…" whispered Lavinia, pre-empting what was going to be said.

Searching inside herself for the bravery to utter her next sentence, Davina felt herself surrender to the nagging tide of doubts that had surfaced inside her mind. Was she fighting a losing battle? Had Cackles Academy moved on without her? Would it be better for her to move on?

"Miss Cackle," she began, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she accepted the inevitable and felt the ties to her past weakening as she began to look to her future, her retirement amongst the Mongolian mountains, "Amelia, there is no need for you to have to choose between us, I-I shall leave!"

"Davina…" Amelia's words were lost as she was enveloped in a tight hug by Miss Bat. As much as she realised that Davina's departure was probably the most sensible decision, she felt a sharp twinge of loss towards the batty old woman with her mousy hair and eccentric ways, her good friend for many years.

"Visit me in Mongolia?" questioned Davina lightly, her usual melodic trill returning to her voice as she felt peace began to return to the school, her racing mind turning already to planning the layout of her dream home in the mountains.

"Of course," nodded Amelia caringly as they broke apart, "That goes without saying…"

Overcome with emotion, Davina turned around and made to hug Constance who deftly side-stepped so that Davina ended up cuddling the dusty curtains that draped around the lead paned windows. Even in a moment such as this, Constance abhorred close personal contact and was not about to break her rigid standards for the ditzy chanting teacher. Instead, she reached out and opened her slender fingers to reveal a beautiful rose of a stunning apricot-yellow, a thoughtful gesture of farewell.

"Don't eat it all at once!" she teased gently, as Davina took the flower from her carefully, cooing over her new friend as she soothed its perfect petals.

"It's beautiful, thank you Constance!" she gasped.

Xxx

Outside in the courtyard a gentle autumnal breeze was blowing sending the fallen leaves skittering in whirling circles, a multi-coloured wheel of reds, golds and oranges as they were whisked across the stone cobbles. Hundreds of eyes watched on from the shuttered windows as the main doors opened and a small procession of staff walked slowly into the courtyard, their thick winter cloaks clutched tightly around them to banish the biting chill.

"Hover…"

The frizzy-haired witch tapped her battered, faithful broomstick sharply before balancing her various cases haphazardly around the handle, the broom dropping slightly, protesting mildly beneath the combined weight of her extensive possessions. She stared back at the buildings of the castle that she had grown to love over her many years spent there, so many memories that were engraved into every square inch of her mind, she had taught so many girls that she had lost count of the number of different faces, experienced so much in her time at the school, but now it was time to look to the future and move on, to seek pastures new in Mongolia and enjoy her retirement.

She bade farewell to all of her colleagues, embracing them all lightly in the traditional farewells before mounting her awaiting mode of transport, perching her slightly crooked hat firmly upon her head, anchoring it into position with her conductor's baton.

She beckoned Lavinia Crotchet closer and gestured up at the watching pupils, a fond smile lighting up her wrinkled features.

"Take care of them, teach them well…" she whispered quietly to her replacement before her broom rose gently into the air, flying skywards towards her new life as she waved frantically to her students who were now abandoning any pretence of hiding and were leaning out of the open windows to wave goodbye and to shout their messages of good luck.

Amelia Cackle sighed softly as she began to make her way back into the castle. At least the problem had been solved but she would most certainly miss Davina's eccentric presence in the staffroom. A faint tap on the shoulder from a smiling Constance brought her to her senses as her deputy said nothing, but pointed skywards with her slender fingers.

Cricking her neck and straining her eyes against the faint wintery sunshine, a faint chortle escaped from between Amelia's lips as she heard a faint squeal of delight as the distant figure of a witch pulled off a daring loop-the-loop over the steep turrets of Cackles Academy.

"Take care, Davina…" she smiled gently.


End file.
